


Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Series: True Love or Something [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Literally that's it that's the fic just fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8855614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: “Hey, babe.”  “What. No. It’s morning.”  “First snow of the season.  Come outside and play with me.”  “…Fine.”  
How do you measure a year?
Takes place the first year Lance and Keith are dating.





	

**Author's Note:**

> YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME, DID I MENTION THAT?
> 
> Seriously, your comments make me so very happy. 
> 
> I apologize for any typos and things in this fic, I went to a holiday party tonight and I wrote this a little tipsy so...yeah. It's literally all seasonal fluff. It snowed today and I'm full of way too much warmth and good cheer, it's not healthy.

**Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes**

Winter

            “KEITH”

            Keith almost doesn’t respond – half-hoping that if he plays dead Lance will stop bouncing on the bed and shouting in his ear.

            “KeithKeithKeithKeith. Babe. Snowflake. Pookie. Gumdrop.”

            Keith figures hitting him with a pillow will shut him up. No such luck.  
           “Keeeeeeeith.”

            Keith gives up. “What.”

            Lance leans in close, and Keith can tell even without opening his eyes, even while burying his face deep in his pillow and wishing for a swift and merciful death – that Lance’s eyes are shining. “It’s snowing,” Lance whispers and Keith can only image what a terror he was on Christmas morning as a child.

            “So?”

            “ _So_ ,” Lance says, dragging the word out, making the single syllable into a poly-syllabic nightmare hitherto unheard by human ears, “It’s our first snowfall as a couple.”

            Keith considers stealing the pillow he just used to hit Lance and hiding under it. “We met in the winter, Lance, it’s not like snow was a new thing.” Ugh. That was too many words before coffee.

            “But it’s January now. _This_ is the first snowfall of the _year._ ”

            Keith grew up in the desert so this is not nearly as thrilling as it maybe should be. “So?”

            Now it’s Lance’s turn to hit him with the pillow. Keith is regretting keeping an extra pillow around. Lance can just fend for himself when he spends the night. No pillows for him.

            “Come play in the snow with me.”

            “No.”

            “ _Babe_.”

            “Sleep.”

            “Snow.”

            “Sleep.”

            “Snow.”

_“Sleep._ ” Keith is not going to win this argument, but he will have it be known he put up a good fight.

            Lance, in lieu of further protest, just sprawls on top of him and, lips pressed against his neck, right under his left ear, whispers, “ _Snow_.”

            Keith opens one eye and glares. “Fine. Snow.”

            Lance, that bastard, kisses him right under his ear and jumps up, accidentally kicking him as he goes. “Yes! I win! Get your coat on, we’re playing in the snow!” And then runs off.

            Keith groans into his pillow. Damn snow.

 

Spring

            Keith is not sure how Lance conned him into chaperoning an Easter egg hunt for the Community Center. He’s not even sure how he ended up decorating half the Easter eggs. He’s pretty sure nudity and a bottle of vodka was involved but other than that the whole decision process remains unclear.

            “Monogamy basically means I have free license to use sexual favors to convince you to do things you don’t want to do,” Lance says when Keith brings up these very real questions, kissing him on the bewildered cheek before running off to chase after kids hopped up on too much sunshine and sugar.

            “At least you have sex as an excuse,” Pidge scoffs from beside Keith at the egg-map booth (where they distribute bright pastel-colored maps delineating the egg hunting ground to jittery kids who have already eaten one too many jellybeans). “He managed to bribe me into doing this one year and has been dragging me and Hunk back to the park every year since in the name of ‘tradition’.” She rolls her eyes, “It doesn’t help that the big guy loves it.” She jerks her head in Hunk’s general direction where he’s mobbed by small children and seems to be having the time of his life.

            Keith and Pidge shake their heads in sync. “ _People_.”  

            “Okay, kids!” Lance yells from where he’s standing on a park bench, wielding a microphone with way too much enthusiasm, “Egg hunt starts….NOW!”

            With a cacophonous scream-shout the kids scatter in all directions, charging forth with all the fury and energy of a light brigade and all the sense of direction of a concussed Canadian goose.

            “And now we watch the bloodbath,” Pidge says solemnly.

            Keith sighs and focuses on folding another map into an origami boat. Maybe later he and Lance can float them down the stream that runs through the center of the park.

            Speak of the devil…Lance slides in beside him on the bench, snaking an arm around Keith’s middle and stealing a kiss. “How’s my favorite team of chaperones?”

            “No.” Keith figures a preemptive strike is in order.

            “Hey, I wasn’t going to ask anything…”

            Pidge snorts from Keith’s other side where she’s wrestling the very rectangular map into a vaguely crane-like shape.

            Lance rolls his eyes and scoots in closer, tucking his head against Keith’s shoulder, “Just…”

            “No.”

            “But…” Lance kisses Keith’s jaw and something inside him begins to turn to jelly.

            “Stay strong, Keith,” Pidge mutters darkly.

            “I think some people should be further afield, you know, making sure the kids don’t get into anything too dangerous…” Lance is _really_ close now and Keith is pretty sure most of his higher-level thinking has ceased to function.

            “ _Keith_ ” Pidge growls like the devil on his shoulder and nope, Keith is not strong enough to deal with this.

            “It’s for a good cause.” And Lance is practically _on Keith’s lap_ and there is only so much he can take.

            “Fine,” he sighs, “Just…fine.”

            Lance _beams_ and Pidge mutters “Traitor,” and Keith sticks his tongue out at her but pauses as he’s sliding out from behind the picnic table. He’s right in front of Lance and he turns to face him, leaning in and draping his arms around his neck because two can play at this game, dammit, and whispers in his ear, “You fucking owe me, dammit,” before kissing him long and dirty and making his escape.

            Lance shouts “No fair!” after him but Keith is too busy cackling at his flushed face to care.

 

Summer

            “I hate everything,” Lance groans, lying on the floor of the kitchen in a puddle of his own sweat.

            Keith glares at the ceiling, also lying on the floor, also shirtless, also pissed off. “I hate the landlord.”

            “Yeah,” Lance says vaguely, “Fuck that guy.”

            “I hate the air conditioning,” Keith says, tone measured and sure, all his focus zeroed in on the things that displease him most about this situation.

            “Does it really count as ‘air conditioning’ if it has ceased to condition our air?” Lance asks philosophically and Keith hums in agreement.

            “Wait.” Keith says, narrowing his eyes; “Does _your_ air conditioning work?”

            “Nope. But Hunk and Pidge are trying to build a portable air-conditioner in the basement. Fifty-fifty chance it explodes and we all die.”

            Keith nods philosophically. “Is it worth it to go to the basement?”

            “Nah. It’s hotter there. Soldering irons. And welding. Or something. Apparently welders can blind you if you don’t wear a mask? Pidge yelled at me the last time I was there when they were building something.”

            “Huh.”

            “Yeah.”

            “I hate summer.”

            “I hate…” Lance pauses, waving a hand limply, “Hot stuff. Except for you. You’re pretty okay.” He vaguely gestures at Keith and Keith tries to not-so-subtly roll away.

            “No, don’t touch me, you’re all sticky and gross and give off heat and I’m dying.”

            “Aren’t you from the desert?”

            “Dry heat, Lance. So differnent.”

            “Huh. So I guess I’m…”

            “Oh no.”

            “ _Too hot to handle_?” and there Lance goes, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and Keith groans.

            “That’s it, I’m hiding in the freezer until this is over.”

            “No, babe, take me with you! We can freeze together like _Titanic_!”

            “That is not how that movie ended.”

            “The couple that dies from frostbite together stays together. Guess what they didn’t do in _Titanic_?”

            “…Die horribly together?’

            “Exactly. And were they together? No.”

            Keith sighs. “Fine, I won’t hide in the freezer.”

            “Good.”

            “Mostly because I don’t think I would fit and knowing you, you’d try to climb in too and it would be a disaster.”

            Lance grins. “Most definitely.”

            A moment of silence as the portable fans they dragged into the kitchen hum.

            “Hey, Keith?”

            “Yes, Lance.”

            “Can we hold hands?”

            Keith sighs. “Let me guess. The couple that gets heat-stroke together…?”

            “Stays together,” Lance finishes brightly and it’s almost enough to have Keith rolling for the freezer again but not quite, so he offers his hand instead. Lance takes it giddily and they lie on the kitchen floor together, holding hands for a few minutes until…

            “I still hate our landlord.”

            “I still think living in the freezer is a viable option.”

 

Autumn

            “I never would have guessed.”

            “Shut up.”

            “You, who make fun of my Starbucks.”

            “Shut _up_.”

            “Are addicted to the pumpkin spice latte.”

            Keith glares at his boyfriend over the rim of his seasonal drink but does not contest the accusation. “It tastes like fall,” he says defensively, “I like it.”

            “Hey, no problem with that,” Lance says causally… _too_ casually… “I just think it’s _funny_ that mister too-much-syrup-in-your-coffee-is-bad-for-you-I-drink-it-black-like-my-soul is a fan of the pumpkin spice latte.”

            Keith has no defense for this so he just takes another swig of his drink. And yes, it is _delicious_. “Are we going to talk about the pile of fake leaves in my living room?”

            “What pile of…oh…”

            “Yeah. The pile of fake fall leaves. In _my_ living room.”

            Lance chuckles awkwardly, “They’re for crafts for the kids at work…”

            “They’ve been sitting there for weeks.”

            “I bought them early.”

            “They were in your living room before Hunk and Pidge made you take them to work only instead of taking them to work, you took them to my place and dumped them.”

            “They’re festive?” Lance offers.

            Keith narrows his eyes and sips his latte judgmentally. “You rake them into a pile and jump in them when I’m at work.”

            Lance scoffs, “I. Do. Not.”

            Keith nods decisively, “You definitely do. It’s why I keep finding them in weird places.”

            “What?!”

            “And why there are shoe marks on the back of my couch.”

            “Your couch is black there is no way there are any shoe marks!”

            “HA! YOU ADMIT IT!”

            “I ADMIT NOTHING!” Lance pauses and peers at Keith inquisitively. “Wait…you want to jump in the leaves too. You are _jealous_ of me and my leaves.”

            “Am not.”

            “Are too.”

            “Am not.”

            “Are too.”

            “Am – WE ARE GROWN MEN, LANCE.”

            Lance cackles, “You want to jump in my pile of fake leaves. Wait…that sounded kind of dirty…”

            Keith pauses, “How?” then shakes his head, “No, wait, I’m not getting distracted. Fine, if you are so convinced I need to jump in the leaves, I’ll jump in the stupid pile of leaves but THEN YOU ARE TAKING THEM TO WORK WHERE THEY BELONG.”

            “Haha!” Lance crows and then _skips_ down the sidewalk because somehow Keith ended up dating a twenty-five-year-old _toddler_ , sing-songing “Keith wants to jump in the leeeeaves, Keith wants to jump in the leeeeaves.”

            Keith sighs and takes another sip of his latte. Yeah. He totally wanted to jump in the leaves. But Lance doesn’t need to know that.

 

Winter (Again)

            “Hey, babe.”

            “What. No. It’s morning.”

            “First snow of the season. Come outside and play with me.”

            “…Fine.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from 'Seasons of Love' from Rent because I'm a sap.


End file.
